Diamonds or Snow – T.S.J. Harling

Image by Alex Avalos, via Unsplash This is the place you go to bury or burn the person you love. – You are in a cinema with friends, or a boyfriend, or your family. No-one is ill, no-one is cross, and you have enough money to waste on a cinema ticket and popcorn and fizzy…

An Ode to Cross-Dressing – Clara Schwarz

I tightly pull back my hair into a slick, low bun, parted far on the right side of my skull. With a several pumps of hairspray, I even out the edges and create a stiff look. I squeeze the top button through its hole and stand up straight as I clip the bow into its…

ONE POEM – Sarah Degner Riveros

Mama hugs
her son. Can we get
horchata? No. Not today.
It’s Tuesday. Treinta tacos?
De asada? Para llevar.
The wait’s worth it.

Pero’s Promise – Tamara Lazaroff

At the village bus stand, with my packed bags, I’m crying my eyes out as I kiss the faces of the row of relatives—Uncle Mitko, Beti, Verka, Tanja, Mirka, even Baba Slobodanka who Branko has carried on his back. Others, too. They’ve all come to say goodbye before I go back home to Australia. And…

ONE POEM – Hideko Sueoka

Carnivorous Butterwort A pale-purple tint – a sort of violet of little petals attracting flies, ants in fresh beeches shading the zigzag trail with glossy moss. The floral colour implies saintly piety to God or deities at which an insect could quail in the East. Ecru moths cruise and scurry. Near Acheron just a halt….

ONE POEM – SJ Valiquette

writing a love letter to the ocean is as singing an aria to a hurricane:
there is nothing in language for this.

ONE POEM – Louise McStravick

Make the water rearrange its insides,
shift shape as it is told,
steam rise
drip drip vinegar,
sour the water to not let things stick.

TWO POEMS – Elizabeth Stott

We made the heads of Styrofoam
so not to be too heavy on their frail necks.
Hearts? Simply-fashioned, from lumps of stone.

ONE POEM – Elizabeth Wilson Davies

The unconsidered diaries of family life fall open at once favourite recipes,
bittersweet imprints on the page of stained, smeared, sticky memories.

Bettina von Arnim Accuses Me of Unfaithfulness – Charles Haddox

I dreamt one night about a bright-eyed young woman with dark hair who accused me of being unfaithful to her. Her accusations were apparently true, which troubled me deeply after I awoke. I had never been unfaithful to anyone but had myself suffered the pain of betrayal once or twice when I was young. I…

ONE POEM – Peter Hebden

Tuesday
morning with no people, no cars
only today there are no people,
no cars. Today it’s weird, isn’t it?

F*ck Cancer: Fighting the Odds in 21st Century America – Leah Mueller

  No one is ever prepared for these dreaded words: your husband’s got cancer. I should have known, but I didn’t. For months, my husband Russ complained of muscle weakness, nausea, blood in his stools, and dizziness. His new primary care provider, a man lauded by his young receptionist as a “genius”, said, “If you…

Virtue — Clare Healy

A glimpse into a young woman’s summer working in a quaint town in Provence on the night of an open-air concert.

TWO POEMS – James Carroll

She’s pulling up weeds from the flowerbed
And then starts feeling one tug back,
Wrapping her water grip and dragging her
Through the claggy earth.

ONE POEM – Lorraine Carey

Slathered in a vernix coat,
you slithered out to my relief
with ten toes and two perfect hands
bunched into tiny fists.